


Get a Cat

by lemony_sneaker



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Cats!, CroMa, Fluff, Other, adopting a cat, already existing relationship, cats with silly names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 11:19:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16345712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemony_sneaker/pseuds/lemony_sneaker
Summary: After Soul and Blair move to Europe, Maka and Crona's apartment feels empty. So, they fill it with a cat





	Get a Cat

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a cute story i wrote, kinda for a friend, but mostly for fun

The jingle of a bell precedes Maka and Crona as they enter the air conditioned space of an animal shelter, the nearest of four in Death City. The interior space is tiled and clean, with a handful of chairs along the wall to their left, a desk and a door in front of them, and a row of empty cages along the right wall. Maka moves purposefully toward the front desk and Crona follows. “Excuse me,” Maka starts, and the associate behind the desk, a stocky dark woman in her fifties with short, curly hair, looks toward her and away from the computer after a moment. “We’re interested in adopting a cat; my flatmate just moved to Europe and took the old one.”

Soul had recently taken a position under Justin Law, hoping to learn how to fight alone from the best. Blair tagged along both to keep him company and to “check out all the European hotties.” Maka was of course sad to see him go- this is the first time they’ve been separated since they partnered up years ago- but she understands his desire to be more well rounded as a weapon, so as to better protect her. 

Still, the apartment felt empty without him and Blair. 

The woman behind the desk smiles and says, “you’re in luck, we have plenty of cats to choose from, and I would just like to say thank you for considering adoption. If I could just get both of your signatures on the welcome sheet-” she gestures at a paper on her desk with a few names on the numerous lines. “-then I can take you back to start meeting the cats.” 

Maka signs the paper with an quick flourish and Crona soon follows her lead, printing their name in their usual slow, careful, neat handwriting. The associate nods and leads them through the back door, into where the animals live. The first thing crona notices is the noise: the cries of dozens, of animals together in only a couple of rooms. The second is the smell. Somehow the architects of the building were able to block the stench of animal with only a single door. 

“Now just a few rules before you handle the cats,” the clerk starts. “One: no more than one cat out per person. Two: put the cats back into their original cages. Three: do not lick the cats. Four…” She lists off a few more rules as they make their way to the end of the hallway. 

Becoming more and more nervous as they get closer to the kennels, Crona grabs Maka’s hand. Immediately her fingers curl around their’s, squeezing gently in comfort. They take a deep breath and remind themself that it's okay. Soon the three of them are in the cat room, no less than 30 two-tier cages lining two walls. In the cages are a menagerie of blankets, toys, scratching pads, and bowls. And cats, of course. Upon spotting the duo of unfamiliar humans, the cats in the cages start meowing and yowling - though by “start” I mean “increase the volume of their.” 

Crona tenses, briefly overwhelmed by the noise and unfamiliar scenario. They had never been in an animal shelter before and they don’t know how to deal with it, so they look to Maka for guidance. The aforementioned blonde meister is excited, evident by her smile and the way her eyes brightly move from cat to cat. Maka looks back to Crona and, squeezing their hand, says, “We should introduce ourselves. Come on!” She tugs Crona to one of the nearest cages and reads the name tag aloud. “Princess Fuzzypants, female, six years old, been in the shelter for three months.”

Crona peeks at the cat, Princess Fuzzypants, and thinks that the name is appropriate. She’s a domestic medium hair with mostly white fur, except for her legs and belly, which are tabby orange. Her tail is fluffy and white and flicks back and forth. She locks eyes with Crona and they shudder, feeling somehow judged, like this cat is too good to even be looked at by such an unworthy person and it very much knows this. It’s like Princess Fuzzypants knows something. Her eyes draw Crona in and they can’t look away, though they dreadfully want to.

“Do you think we should get a closer look at her? We can take her out of the cage and pet her, if you want,” Maka suggests, breaking Crona’s cat induced hypnosis, and they shake their head vigorously, now staring at the floor to ensure that they aren’t sucked into Princess Fuzzypants’ gaze again. “Then how about him?,” Maka continues, moving towards the next cage in the wall. “Gamzee Macata? What an odd name. It says he’s ten years old and has been at the shelter for two years.”

This next cat, Gamzee Macata, is a domestic shorthair tabby with distinct white markings on his face. This cat seems to have not taken any notice of the pair of humans outside his cage, despite them blocking his light and the symphony of desperate cat sounds. Gamzee Macata just sits perfectly still, facing a wall of his cage, the only evidence of him being alive is the shallow rise and fall of his tiny kitty chest. Crona watches as Maka tries to get the cat’s attention, talking to and waving at him, but the cat just ignores her, continuing to stare unblinking at a nondescript wall. Crona grows nervous at the un-catlike behaviour from the cat, and Maka grows bored of trying to disturb the odd tabby. 

Maka and Crona go through another five cats in the same way, moving along the wall in a sequential order. After so much time, the majority of cats have settled down, quietly waiting their turn to be looked at, though a few still screech onward, their desperation untouched by the passing of time. Maka tries to befriend the cats - and succeeds more often than not - and Crona lingers behind her, sometimes reaching out a shaking hand to give a tentative scratch behind the ear, but mostly just watching and looking around. All of the cats Maka picked up are perfectly nice cats, but they just don’t feel right. They don’t know why, but Crona feels like they’ll somehow know when they find the right cat, that it’ll be instinctual or otherwise somehow obvious, even though Ragnarok called that idea “stupider than a arsonist in a pool.” Though really, they’ll be happy as long as Maka is happy, no matter which cat she picks. 

While Maka’s busy putting the latest cat away, Crona’s eyes wander along the wall behind them, searching, but not seriously, for a sign of the perfect cat. Their gaze lands on a black but mostly orange face smooshed against their cage wire. The cat who is attached to said face is screaming loudly, one of the few still making noise. But unlike the others, the sounds coming out of this cat are nearly infeline, sounding like a record scratch mixed with a squeaky toy instead of a meow. Crona makes their way over to their cage and the cat unsmooshes their face and sits back, showing off her form. One of her ears is folded over itself at the tip, and she’s got only one eye. The orange of her face quickly gives way to splotches of white which in turn dissipate into her predominately black coat. 

Macaroni, male, age 4, been in the shelter for 3 years, the tag outside the cage reads. For a moment Crona thinks they misread the label; such a young and pretty kitty couldn’t possibly have spent such a long time stuck in this cage, especially one with such a funny name! Cat’s aren’t pasta! Crona wonders what could possibly have prevented him from being adopted and looks over Macaroni again but can’t find a fault that would preclude his adoption. Evidently, this double take takes too long for Macaroni’s liking as his mouth opens in an unholy gape and releases a demanding squeal that Crona can’t help but find adorable and oddly endearing, like somehow he also didn’t learn how to talk to people. 

With a tiny, nervous smile, Crona opens the cage and, as soon as the door is fully open, Macaroni leaps out of it, forelegs splayed to catch her on Crona’s long-sleeve t shirt. Crona scrambles to get their arms under the newly purring cat to give him a place to perch so he can retract his claws from their collar and sit more comfortably. As soon as he’s situated properly, all four legs in their arms, Macaroni pushes his head into Crona’s chin, rubbing himself over them. They giggle quietly at the tickly sensation. This is the one, Crona thinks to themself, in awe of this magnificent feline. 

They turn around to get Maka’s attention, but to their surprise, they already have it. Their girlfriend is standing behind them, staring intently at them, a knowing glint in her eye. “Is that the one?” Crona nods, Macaroni still purring and pushing into their face. “He’s so sweet. What’s his name?”

“Macaroni,” they reply with a smile, one that is quickly matched by Maka.

“That’s a silly name,” she says, and Crona giggles, happy that she thinks so too. “Can I hold him?” Within a moment, Macaroni is transferred between the couple and is happily purring in Maka’s arms as she scratches him behind the ears. “I think we’ve found our cat, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Crona agrees. But they can’t shake the feeling that Macaroni somehow found them, despite them being the ones to visit him. Maka hands the cat back to Crona and leads them towards the lobby for the adoption paperwork, but before they can get out of cat storage, a third party- or rather a fourth- emerges from Crona’s back with a loud squelch and a shrill voice, startling the kennel into another round of loud meowing. 

Ragnarok grabs Crona’s hair and pulls while yelling, “so what? I don’t get a say in this? That’s so unfair, I’m a person too! I live in the apartment too so I should get to decide whether we get this fleabag.” He glances at Macaroni for a brief second before declaring, “NOPE! A wuss cat like this might be good enough for a pussy like you but I have standards! If we’re getting a cat, we’re getting something cool, like a Maine Coon, or a puma, or a wolverine, not a pathetic, one-eyed, rat like-” Ragnarok’s tirade is cut off by Macaroni, who gently lays a paw on the center of his face. Ragnarok swivels his eyes to lock onto the impudent cat and leans in, pushing the paw off his face. It would be menacing if he still had his former bulk, but as is, it's more like a flower bending in the breeze. Macaroni stares him down, intrigued. 

“You think you’re hot shit just because my braindead idiot of a-” Again the sword’s cut off by a paw to the face. “Do you think I’m gonna shut up just because of a stupid paw? I’m not as weak willed as the lump of flesh I’m attached to, so you’re gonna have to try a bit harder than that to- AGH!” Ragnarok screams when one of his protruding eyes is scratched by Macaroni’s claws, her outstretched paw barely needing to move at all to get Ragnarok to recoil in pain. He covers his injured eye with a hand and shakes his remaining fist at the cat in his meister’s arms. “I’ll get you back for that you mangy shrimp! Don’t think this is over,” he grumbles before retreating into Crona’s bloodstream.

Maka and Crona exchange a look. 

“That went better than expected,” says Maka. Crona nods in agreement, happy that Ragnarok and Macaroni got along so well. The first time Ragnarok saw Blair in her cat form he tried to eat her, and, when that backfired, flung a slew of curses and obscenities at her, throwing things at her until she transformed. 

The pair of lovers finish their journey to the front desk, fill out a short stack of paperwork, and are on their way. That night, Crona and Maka’s bed has a new, furry occupant.


End file.
